


One Terrible Night

by silvernox232



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (1963), Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Inspired by recent novelization of Day of the Doctor, Missing Scene, Post-Episode: The Day of the Doctor, Pre-Episode: s01e01 Rose, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-15
Updated: 2018-04-15
Packaged: 2019-04-23 00:05:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14320029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silvernox232/pseuds/silvernox232
Summary: A brief snippet from the Ninth Doctor's first night (Inspired by the new novelization of The Day of the Doctor).





	One Terrible Night

_ “Gallifrey. You’re going to burn it. And all those Daleks with it but all those children too. How many children on Gallifrey right now?” _

_ “Don’t know.” _

* * *

“Nine-hundred and ninety-seven.”

_ *CRASH* _

“Nine-hundred and ninety-eight.”

_ *CRASH* _

“Nine-hundred and ninety-nine.”

_ *CRASH* _

“And that makes a grand total of 300 mil!” the Doctor announced, his booming voice echoing into silence down the TARDIS’ hallways.

He made a grand flourish with his cricket bat and once more brought it down on the broken mirror, sending more reflective shards plummeting to the floor.

“And that’s just the children of Arcadia! Who knows how long it will take to count all the kids in the Citadel, eh? The ones still at the Academy? The little ones still living with Mum and Dad out in the Drylands? But you know me, I can keep this up all night!”

To emphasize his point, The Doctor gritted his teeth and unleashed a rapid-fire barrage of swings at the mirror until it finally gave way to the damage. The wrecked frame collapsed loudly onto the floor below. He gave the battered decoration a glance over and tried to remember its origins. Something he picked up at an alien thrift stop? A gift from the House of Hapsburg perhaps? He couldn’t recall.

Despite the exuberance in his attack, the Doctor was breathing quite heavily. He was still within the first 12 hours of his regeneration and with all the built-up regenerative energy blazing inside him, it felt as if a miniature sun was burning him alive.

Slouching downwards against a nearby wall for a short break, he shrugged out of his predecessor’s coat and eased up the tight grip he’d held on the bat. He looked down the hallway at his progress so far.

Fragments from once ornate mirrors littered the otherwise spotless white floor, the hallway sparkling with reflected light. He’d been wandering for hours since the regeneration occurred, stumbling in a daze out of the console room before grabbing a bat from the cricket pitch and moving relentlessly through the different sections of the TARDIS, destroying anything that perfectly shared his image.

It didn’t matter to the Doctor that due to the unique dimensional properties of the TARDIS, he was facing a potential infinite number of mirrors.

He’d keep breaking them until there were no more left to break or when he had counted every single child he’d left to burn on Gallifrey. Whichever came first.

His memory was still foggy from the regeneration, but he shut his eyes tight and tried to remember. Tried to remember what exactly happened and what went wrong. Why was he still alive? He knew he had parked the TARDIS far away. He shouldn’t have been able to use the Moment and still survive yet here he was.

His mind ached with the stress of recollection and he started rubbing his temples to ease some of the pain. Remembering the instant he’d set fire to Gallifrey was like trying to look through frosted glass that was becoming more opaque by the second. He could only make out the vaguest of shapes and images.

Sounds and colors, however, he remembered with brutal clarity.

The high-pitched wails of recently orphaned children.

Soldiers crying out for orders, desperate for survival when faced with imminent death.

Family and friends hopelessly calling out for loved ones as a brilliant crimson and orange blaze covered the planet.

Innocent and corrupt, all annihilated in a vivid flash of light.

The Doctor ran a restless hand through his hair, briefly being surprised at how short it was in comparison to his previous incarnation. He’d never had hair this cropped before. His head was so...exposed. This would certainly take some time getting used to.

“But I don’t want to get used to it,” he said quietly. “I want to be dead. I  _ should _ be dead.”

Sighing deeply, he glanced around at where his path of destruction had taken him.

The Doctor was in a section of the TARDIS he had not ventured into for centuries. Every inch of the hallway was pure white. His new eyes stung at the bright lighting, watering slightly against the oppressive glare. On the walls were neatly arranged glass roundels. He remembered that others who had traveled with him before had made active use of them for storage but he frequently forgot they were even there. They were just another decorative feature that all TARDIS’ had. Nothing too special.

A wave of fury raced through him as he saw the blurred reflection of an unknown man in the misted glass of a roundel.

“ **No!** ” he yelled, shooting straight up.

He drew back the bat and with a mighty swing, it collided with the roundel, leaving a small yet satisfying crack in the thick glass.

“You do _not_ get to see this face!”

He pulled back and swung again.

“Left me here to rot in your hell when you should’ve just had the guts to die!”

_ *CRACK* _

“You coward!”

_ *CRACK* _

“Monster!”

_ *CRACK* _

“Murderer!”

The final swing shattered the glass completely and the contents of the roundel spilled onto the floor.

Crouching on the floor and sifting through the glass, the Doctor found a small first aid kit, a bag of crisps long gone stale, and a small journal titled _Rainy Day Ideas_ belonging to a Ms. Susan Foreman.

He carefully removed the journal from the wreckage. An aged photograph slipped through the yellowed pages of the journal into his hands.

It was a black and white polaroid of himself, his granddaughter, and Barbara in front of a massive stone pyramid. The Doctor allowed a small, sad smile to cross his features. Despite his current state of memory, he remembered the day the photograph had been taken as if it were yesterday. The discovery of a missing Egyptian pyramid on the moon of Io had been a true delight for the whole crew. Susan had insisted that they capture the moment and Ian was gracious enough to take the photo.

“Always a good man, that Chesterton,” he thought aloud, wistfully thinking back on those early adventures of his.

A terrible thought struck the Doctor as he looked at all the roundels on the wall: What other hidden souvenirs of the past were lurking inside them?

His hearts broke when he realized that reminders of his family, of his friends, of the innocents he had failed to save, all those happy moments of days-long past could be inside any one of them.

One day, he would be ready to face those memories. He would remember that once upon a time, he was truly a good man and had the capacity to be one again.

But that was not tonight. This dismal night belonged to the memory of the victims of his unspeakable and devastating actions and the Doctor refused to be distracted by pleasant memories of better times.

The mirrors, those gleaming, perfect reflections of himself. They had to go. They _needed_ to go.

The roundels...they could stay for now. As long as they remained as far away from him.

The Doctor rose from the floor and dusted off. Completely ignoring the debris that littered the area, he grabbed his coat, tightened his grip on the bat and started walking in a new direction.

Preferably one that had worse lighting.

“I wonder how many mirrors are in the library?”

* * *

_ “Did you ever count?” _

_ “Count what?” _

_ “How many children there were on Gallifrey that day?” _

_ “2.47 billion.” _   
  


**Author's Note:**

> I have not actually read The Day of the Doctor novelization yet so I don't actually know if they included this scene or if it's more of a mention but yeah: in the new novelization, Nine's first night was apparently spent smashing all the mirrors in the TARDIS (which, again, is probably an impossible task) and thinking of all the children he would need to save in order to ever possibly make up for the children he had killed when he destroyed Gallifrey.  
> That is just absolutely heartbreaking and now a very strong contender as the saddest moment in Doctor Who for me.  
> Edit: I also wrote a companion song to this that is much more optimistic and switches the POV to the Gallifreyans that the Doctor saved through their actions in DotD! Can be found here https://soundcloud.com/user-387687149/gallifrey-is-risen


End file.
